


A Lingering Frost

by Vivacitii



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivacitii/pseuds/Vivacitii
Summary: Even in such moments of poetic reprieve, even in the early conjuring of deep affection, even in the shattering of a terminal curse through personal sacrifice and mutual love, a decade perpetual winter can still prove rather difficult to shake. The chill takes root in one’s very marrow. It seizes the heart and melds into one’s mind. It amplifies danger - and the drawbacks of the world he had involuntarily left behind just over ten years ago.A world that she was now a part of.
Relationships: Adam/Belle (Disney)
Kudos: 7





	A Lingering Frost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belle_Eyre27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Eyre27/gifts).



> Author's Note: A gift for a very, very dear friend. :) This will be on the shorter side, but I wanted to write out a question that has been tumbling around in my head for a while. Rating is subject to change.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own BatB, but, man, do I love the literary trope of it. Enjoy!

**Prologue:**

_A Lingering Frost_

* * *

The Prince had endured a decade of perpetual winter—in both the literal **and** figurative sense.

One becomes complacent to many things under the restrictions of a frostbitten landscape. Suppressed under the hopeless conditions of a cursed existence, one experiences, perhaps unsurprisingly, _slight_ difficulty in conjuring a refreshed outlook on life, particularly when trapped in such monstrous form. Not even the best efforts of his servants could kindle the dying embers of his hope; it was no secret to him that they, too, were cursed.

Such blame rests heavy in the chest.

The snow, for all the beauty Belle now illuminated in it, had been but the preamble to his grave; the frost, a binding for his very soul, and his heart had long been buried deep within its ceaseless layers. Nevertheless, the simple kindness imbued within her words held a magic of its own; he could recall with crystal acuity the day that he had gazed out upon the frigid wasteland of his existence, and, with the careful recitation of long dead poets, Belle conjured rebirth: a renewal of hope amid the slow strangulation of his will. This ugly scenery, this interminable reminder of his swiftly waning humanity suddenly contained such wondrous beauty that he half expected she had placed an enchantment on him under the guise of poetry.

The meeting of her brown eyes, searching and suddenly timid, had suggested otherwise.

It took him long enough to realize such experiences were the first incurable symptoms of love. But that was something he had to learn anyway, was it not? To love and be loved. That oh-so very important stipulation...

Belle had continued reading. The snow fell gently upon them, between them, swirling in a silent ballet that performed for the pentameter of her narration. No longer did the cold and its frigid trappings serve to threaten. And, if but only momentarily, no longer were they an aspect of the curse.

It was in that moment that his transfixed mind failed recall what had kept him sane prior to her grand entrance into his life, but a glance at the small book cradled in her grasp reminded him swiftly enough. Books had been his sanity, his anchor, his foremost escape. They made the impossible possible: the closest thing he possessed to true hope. How fitting, then, that it was through books that they tethered a meaningful connection of shared curiosity and scholarship.

Well, through that and feral wolves, perhaps.

But even in such moments of poetic reprieve, even in the early conjuring of deep affection, even in the shattering of a terminal curse through personal sacrifice and mutual love, a decade perpetual winter can still prove rather difficult to shake. The chill takes root in one’s very marrow. It seizes the heart and melds into one’s mind. It amplifies danger - and the drawbacks of the world he had involuntarily left behind just over ten years ago.

A world that she was now a part of.

She loved him. He loved her—oh, how he _loved_ her. It had broken the curse, after all. _His_ curse.

The curse he may have placed on Belle in the process, however, haunted him to sleeplessness.


End file.
